


focal point

by GreenLies



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, They Both Die At The End! AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28836663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenLies/pseuds/GreenLies
Summary: Oikawa Tooru is nineteen when he gets a phone call saying that within twenty-four hours, he'll be dead. Across the city, Iwaizumi Hajime gets the same one.Both have their own goals, but they're brought together by chance on their last day. Now, they need to learn how to live, how to love, and how to outrun death - all before the sun rises again.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 1
Kudos: 11





	focal point

**Author's Note:**

> hi guys!!! very excited to post this - i've been wanting to do it for a while and finally managed to sit down and write it. 
> 
> you may have guessed already, but this story contains a LOT of death-centric themes. i'm going to put specific warnings in the notes for each chapter, but if this is something that could potentially be triggering for you, please be careful. if you have any questions or want me to put a warning about any certain topic, feel free to comment or shoot me a DM (my twitter is under some of my other stories). 
> 
> huge thanks to [alex](https://twitter.com/skyscapes_) and [emma](https://twitter.com/homeinbooks) for beta-ing, you guys rock.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter contains brief mentions of drowning, car crashes, and being crushed under rubble.

_“Here we are, trapped in the amber of the moment. There is no why.”_

_-Kurt Vonnegut_

⧖⧖⧖

The alert is sharp.

The sound pierces his ears, and Oikawa’s sleep-addled brain is briefly reminded of when he used to fall asleep in front of the television as a child and would wake to one of his mother’s drama pieces blaring on the screen. 

The thought overtakes him for just a moment before a second alert, louder than the first, sounds. He sits up suddenly, blood running cold, hands scrabbling the bedsheets as he attempts to locate the sound. 

A third alert. It bounces around Oikawa’s skull, reverberating. Panic overtakes him for a moment, and he is unable to breathe as the noise suffocates him, leaving nothing left. He’d turn it off if he could get his heart to stop racing and _find his fucking phone._

His brain finally catches up to him and he gathers himself enough to reach under the pillow with shaking hands. Sure enough, the screen is flashing. He doesn’t want to answer, but the fourth and loudest alert yet blares, and he almost drops his phone before forcing himself to accept the call. 

“Hello, is this Oikawa Tooru?” 

Oikawa wants to respond, but his throat is swollen shut. If he opens his mouth, all the fear spinning inside his body will overflow and choke him. The silence is palpable, crackling over the phone line.

“Oikawa, I need your confirmation. I’m afraid I have many calls to make tonight.”

He isn’t aware that he’s crying until a tear hits the blanket. Must be why his throat feels so tight. He tries to talk, only to release a small choked noise. _Again._ He clears his throat, and this time, his voice comes out, albeit warbly. 

“Yes. I’m Oikawa. I- Oikawa’s me.” 

“Oikawa, how are you doing today?” Her voice is warm, kind, but Oikawa doesn’t have it in him to humor her. Because he knows what’s going to happen - has seen countless videos and posts, has seen it used in movie plots and books, and he is terrified. 

His voice shakes as he answers, one word. “Stop.” 

“I apologize, Oikawa, I’m aware of how troubling this call must be for you. If you’d like, I can refer you to some-”

“Please stop.” Oikawa knows, deep down, that this isn’t her fault. That she’s probably a college kid, one who only took this job to pay the bills and got stuck with a graveyard shift of calling people and telling them…. “Just give me my options. Please.” 

“Alright.” A click of a keyboard in the background and a short sigh. “Oikawa Tooru, I regret to inform you that sometime in the next twenty-four hours, you’ll be meeting an untimely death.” 

And there it is. 

The woman is still talking, but Oikawa can't hear her, can’t hear anything. His vision is tunnelling, and he can focus on nothing except that word. Death. Death. Death. The alerts only ever mean one thing.

Oikawa Tooru is going to die. 

He forces himself back to earth, and the woman is still talking. “..any special requests, you can log onto the Deathcast website and fill it out with your name and address.”

No one really knows how it works. There are some things that are never explained. Oikawa always imagined a clean white building with workers inside wearing three-piece suits, typing away on their laptops to determine the date of when someone was going to die.

He thinks about it, sometimes, in the early hours of the morning, when walking home from practice or just before he sleeps. Whether they knew since he was a baby, simply waiting for the day to tell him, or if it was something they could only detect just before it happened. 

Whether it could ever be avoided. 

But the general public doesn’t know, probably never will, and so it ended up with this- this _system,_ this way of living. The scientists give their data sparingly, and the burden falls on the Deathcast employees to start making calls at midnight, telling the person on the end of the line that they’ll be dead before the sun rises again. 

Oikawa shudders. 

“...and on behalf of everyone here at Deathcast, we are so sorry to lose you. Live this day to the fullest, okay?” 

He whispers, “Okay.” 

And then his phone screen goes dark, the last connection he had beyond these four walls vanishing, and Oikawa is by himself in the dark room. He can’t leave his house. Outside there’s only a world of danger, and he can’t handle it, knowing that even the slightest breeze could kill him between now and midnight. 

He might have to leave this world alone. He rented an apartment for the semester, a one-bedroom with a pull-out couch just in case a friend wanted to stay over. He had told his mother that no, he didn’t need a roommate, that it was time to start living on his own, and oh, _shit._

His mom. 

The staggering realization hits him so hard that he falls back down on the bed, curling up on his side. He’s going to die before his mom. His mom is going to have to _bury_ him. His mom is going to have to see him bloodied from a car crash, or choking on water, or underneath the rubble of the building if it decides to crumple. Maybe even-

Oikawa claps a hand over his own mouth when he realizes that his sobs are coming louder and faster, trying to stop the oncoming storm. He’s beginning to understand that every moment wasted is a moment closer to his death. Which had always been the case, perhaps, but was never as poignant as it is right now. 

Despite his best efforts, he begins to cry even more as thoughts flow in before he can push them away. His mother talking to the mortician. His sister, all the way in Osaka, wishing she had gotten to see him one last time. Haruki, the team’s setter, wondering where his _little protege_ had gone. The empty seat in the classroom. The vacant apartment. Would someone find him immediately? Or would it take a few days, until the smell of his body started to seep up into the room above?

He wonders how many people would come to his funeral. 

He couldn’t stop crying, now, even if he tried; it’s loud and ugly, but Oikawa realizes suddenly that even if someone in one of the surrounding rooms could hear him, he won’t be there when they decide to complain. 

And so he sits up for better airflow, grips his blanket like a child, and sobs. 

  
  
  


When he finishes, his throat is raw and his nose is stuffed. He’s almost lightheaded from his constant gasping for air, but he feels better after letting it out. 

He checks the clock. It’s 12:32 in the morning. He wants to try his mother first - sometimes she’ll stay up late watching television, so he figures he has a 50-50 shot. 

He takes a deep breath first. For this, he needs to be calm, keep his wits about him. He’s always been a mama’s boy, and his mother seems to have a sixth sense when it comes to Oikawa having problems, whether it be a scraped knee or a failed test or anything in between. 

Before he can lose his nerve, Oikawa pulls out his phone and calls. 

One ring, two rings, three. He’s not sure whether he wants her to pick up, but as soon as the thought crosses his mind, there’s the _click_ of someone else getting on the line. 

“Tooru! And here I thought you’d forgotten about me.” 

Oikawa laughs in spite of himself. His mom sounds normal, happy. “I’m sorry. School has been crazy lately.” 

“I’ll bet.” He can hear her settling down, taking a seat, probably in the overstuffed armchair in their living room. He misses her so much it aches. “You haven’t been filling me in! How have classes been? Are you making any new friends?” 

Oikawa listens to her sweet voice, the note of concern lacing her tone, and makes a decision. 

“Um, class has been good. I joined the volleyball team, so I’ve met people there.” He takes a deep breath. “Actually, I was wondering if I could come down to visit?” 

“Honey, of course. You’re always welcome here. You know that. Were you thinking this weekend?” 

“Um.” He takes a deep breath. Natural. Sound natural. “I was thinking, like, tonight? Just for a bit.” 

“Tonight? Tooru, it’s so early.” He can hear her hesitating, picking apart his tone. “Is everything okay?” 

“It’s fine, I promise. I’m going to be in the area tomorrow anyway to visit someone. And…” Oikawa bites the inside of his cheek. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too. And you can tell me anything, you know that?” 

Tooru is already grabbing his keys. “I know. I’ll probably be there in, like, an hour.” 

“Okay. Be careful, honey.” 

“I will.” He shrugs on a jacket and pauses in the hallway. “Mom?” 

“Yes?” 

He looks up at the ceiling, willing his voice not to tremble. “I love you.” 

“I love you too.” Her voice is laced with concern, and he can tell she knows that something is wrong, but she doesn’t press. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Oikawa stands for a minute, looking at the black screen after she hangs up before shaking himself into motion. 

He’s not far from her; perhaps forty-five minutes if the traffic is decent. He hadn’t wanted to go somewhere far away for university, especially since his sister had up and left for Osaka. He didn’t visit as much as he should have, despite everything, but he doesn’t want to hold that resentment now. 

Instead, he works on cleaning his apartment. There’s not much left for it - he had moved in fairly recently. His schoolbag and books can be left, his old laptop taken apart or donated. There are no diaries or notebooks, nothing outside of the standard procedure. He takes a moment to wash the dishes in the sink and make the bed and packs one bag with his essentials - the alien toy his sister had given him before university, a letter from his high school coach, his favorite book, dog-eared and coffee stained. His wallet. A bottle of water. An extra jacket. An envelope full of cash - his money will be given to his family either way, but he figures he may as well get a head start. 

Oikawa is almost happy he got the apartment so late because when he leaves, there’s hardly a sense of loss. His chest hurts when he looks at his old coat hanging on the rack or the stack of movies on the coffee table that he never ended up watching, but it’s muted, almost as though he’s accepted what’s to come. 

He takes a final look around. There’s a very good chance that he’ll never come back here again, but right now, he has a priority, and that’s seeing his mother one last time. 

Oikawa stares at the wall. He had never noticed the small crack running across the plaster. 

Then he puts on his shoes, hefts his bag over his shoulder, and leaves. 

  
  
  


In retrospect, he should have thought about this more. 

Oikawa white-knuckles the entire drive. Which is stupid, of course, since it’s early in the morning and a Tuesday and there’s literally nobody on the road, _and_ he’s fully aware that tense driving makes you more prone to accidents. Despite all this, the speedometer never dips above 80 kilometers an hour while he’s on the highway, and his promised hour takes him until 1:30 in the morning to complete. 

He’s shaking as he finally parks the car outside his mother’s house. The kitchen light is still on, and if he focused, he may be able to hear the radio she plays softly when she’s trying to stay awake. 

Oikawa makes sure to knock softly as so not to disturb the neighbors and relaxes instinctively when he hears her footsteps shuffling to open the door. He barely gives her a moment to say hello before he’s throwing his arms around her, hugging as though he’ll never see her again. 

“Tooru, I missed you.” His mom sounds a little breathless with how tight he’s embraced her, so he lets go. “Come inside, you’ll catch a cold.” 

He toes off his shoes and hangs his jacket, facing away from her so he can take a breath. He can do this. “Hi, mom.”

She ushers him in, shutting the door and pouring tea. He’s seated under the kotatsu before he knows it, a warm mug in hand, and he cannot remember a time he felt more comfortable. If only he was here under different circumstances. 

“Sweetie, what’s going on?” His mother is seated across from him, both hands wrapped around her tea, and she’s staring at him as though she can see right through his facade. Oikawa looks closer. She’s gained a bit of weight, her face plumper, but he’s secretly glad; he always worried about her not eating enough. “Is something wrong?”

Oikawa stares at the table. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just… stressed. About school, and everything. I wanted to see you.”

“Are you sure?” She sounds almost… _sad,_ and Oikawa can’t make himself meet her eyes. 

“I’m sure. Sorry, for keeping you up. It gets lonely sometimes.” He lets a smile dance over his face, barely there. “You may have been right about me needing a roommate.” 

“I told you.” His mother sighs in the understanding that she won’t be getting anything else out of him. “Well, you can transfer next semester.” 

“Next semester. I guess I could.” He swallows the lump in his throat and forces himself to look neutral. “Enough about me, though. How have you been?” 

His mother’s smile is watery, and perhaps he could tell her, but it would hurt too much to dwell upon. So Oikawa listens instead, hears her prattle on about her work, her friends, the new night class she had taken. 

“I should probably go soon,” he says after she’s talked herself out completely. “I _am_ visiting someone.” 

“Of course.” His mother busies herself getting up and collecting the mugs. 

Oikawa stands as well, turning away to his bedroom. 

It’s exactly like he remembers it. The stupid glow stars are still stuck to the ceiling, and his navy bedspread is slightly rumpled. Books line the shelves and the aloe plant he has is still alive. There’s no buildup on any surfaces - Oikawa wonders if his mother comes in here sometimes, wiping away the layers of dust, pretending that he’s still home. The thought makes his stomach hurt. 

He lies down on his bed and stares at the ceiling. 

He used to count the stars when he couldn’t sleep, and he still knows how many are stuck there - thirty-six. He knows every inch of this room, every trinket that’s settled on his bookshelf, the shirt still draped over his desk chair and the green lamp on his bedside table. 

It aches, thinking about it, something deep and stinging, knowing that this is the last time he’ll be in his childhood home. The stupid Star-Wars bobblehead is shaking from how hard he dropped onto his bed, and the sight is what finally prompts him to get up. 

He shuts the door on his way out of his room, and his mother is standing in the kitchen. Tooru goes to her. 

“Mom?” 

She turns. “Yes?” 

“You’re going to leave someday, right?” She’s not very old and is plenty healthy, and Oikawa knows she has time, but it seems to have taken a habit of slipping away lately. “You aren’t just going to be in this house forever?” 

“Tooru, honey, what are you talking about?” She laughs lightly. “My work is here, my friends are here.” 

“But you want to travel, right? You’ve told me that before.” His words come out faster now, tripping over each other. “China and America and Italy.” 

“That’s so far in the future. Let me worry about your tuition, and then I can get started on my retirement plans.” 

“But you’ll do it?” He looks down, eyes stinging. “Someday, right? Promise me you will.” 

“What has gotten _into_ you?” his mother asks, but Oikawa resolutely does not answer. “Okay. I promise.” 

He nods, satisfied. “Is there anything else you need? While I’m here?” 

“Not right now,” she replies. “But come see me before you head back, okay? You don’t seem yourself. Maybe you should take some time off if college is worrying you that much.” 

“Maybe,” Oikawa says. “I’ll come see you again, though.” 

His mother smiles at him as he steps out of the kitchen and pulls on his shoes, his jacket, and takes one last look around. The only home he had ever known, and here he was, stepping away. His mother comes toward him and Oikawa throws his arms around her again. 

“I love you, momma,” and he has not called her that since he was a child, but he feels like one right now - fists balled up in her cardigan, eyes burning with the struggle not to cry. “So much. Thank you for everything.” 

“I love you too,” she says, and she sounds so concerned. Oikawa wants to tell her, but he knows that if he does, he’ll never leave this house. He won’t be able to go and then she really will have to watch him die. 

“I’ll call you, okay?” he tells her, if only to ease her worry. He pulls back and she’s the same woman that held him as a child and took care of him when he was sick and encouraged him to stick with volleyball throughout his life. The same woman who stroked his hair when he cried and tutored him when he failed his first test and always, always supported him. 

“Okay.” 

He looks at her one last time. He will not call. He knows that. Sometime in the morning, she’ll hear the news. Perhaps she’ll mourn, or scold herself for not seeing it sooner. 

But Oikawa can’t make her watch him die.

So he waves a cheery goodbye and heads out, shutting the front door behind him. He sticks the money he had taken earlier in the mailbox and actually makes it into his car before he starts to cry. 

In retrospect, Oikawa is shocked that he wasn’t killed when he recklessly sped away from the house. He drives to the empty lot that he had come to when he was younger, a teenager, where he would drink with his friends and look at the sky and kiss a girl for the first time. 

It still looks the same. There are a few junk parts, pieces of cars that no longer work and will not be fixed no matter what. Broken beyond repair. 

He turns the car off, punches the steering wheel, and howls, sobs folding his body in half, wails piercing the night air. It is raw and animalistic and rips through his throat as he begs for help but finds none, the pain, for a moment, overwhelming, and he wonders if this is what will kill him. 

The final words he would ever say to his mother were lies. 

⧗⧗⧗

It happens when Iwaizumi Hajime is on his night shift. He signed up for closing at the small convenience store down the road, thinking that if he worked then, he’d be free during the day and get more done. Not his best move, he knows. 

It’s around two in the morning, probably, but he hasn’t checked his watch due to the girl batting her eyelashes at him from across the counter. He’s been trying to subtly tell her that _no,_ he doesn’t want to fuck, he wants to finish his shift and get the hell out of there so he can sleep, but she doesn’t seem to be taking the hint. 

The alarm coming from his phone makes them both jump. Iwaizumi looks down and then back up, half-expecting her to be pointing a gun at him or something equally terrifying, but she looks just as shocked, lips parted in surprise. 

His phone sounds again, louder, and he jerks his head to her - _get out._ She nods once and walks away, bottom lip trembling, and he follows, locking the door behind her before sinking down against the cool glass. 

The alarm rings a third time, even louder. Shit. 

Iwaizumi answers. 

“Hello, is this Iwaizumi Hajime?” The man on the phone sounds like he’s about three days away from getting the call himself - he speaks with a wheeze in his voice, choking on his vowels. 

“Yeah. Hi.” Iwaizumi surprises himself with how steady his voice is. 

“Iwaizumi, I’m calling from Deathcast. I regret to inform you that sometime within the next twenty-four hours, you’ll be meeting an untimely death.”

“Twenty-two hours.” 

“What?” 

“It’s two in the morning. Your call was late.” 

The man lets out a sigh. “My apologies, Iwaizumi. As you probably know, we have a large number of notifications to get through each day, and the call times can range from midnight to three in the morning.” 

He lets it sit for a moment, perhaps for dramatic effect, and Iwaizumi feels some kind of mirth bubbling up in his chest. It bursts out, and then he’s laughing, nearly hysterical. “I kind of got that,” he replies through his giggles. “But thanks.” 

The man on the other end of the line is kind enough to wait until his laughter dies down before continuing. “While you might be dying, you still have the chance to live today. Would you like me to list some options you have?” 

Iwaizumi gathers himself enough to ask, “What’s your name?” 

“Akihiko, sir, but I don’t see-” 

“Well, Akihiko, thank you for the call,” Iwaizumi says. He knows it’s rude, but he doesn’t really want to be on the line with some stuffy stranger during the last twenty-four hours of his life, and what the hell? He’s dying today. He can be a little rude. “I get what you’re saying. You don’t have to tell me anything else, so I’m going to hang up now. Bye.” 

He can tell when Akihiko processes his message, because he begins to say something just before Iwaizumi hits the _end call_ button. Once alone, the smile slowly fades from his face, and he lets himself roll over onto his back. 

So that’s it, isn’t it. 

Iwaizumi Hajime is dying today. The thought alone seems unreliable, although he knows better. Deathcast has never been wrong. 

Iwaizumi always assumed he’d live forever. Or, well, not forever, but not this short. He assumed he’d go on to do great things, to change the world, to live out his dreams and become a teacher or perhaps a physical therapist, or at least get to go back to school and finish his degree. 

It’s like he’s watching from above. It seems unnatural, almost, that all these dreams he had are so suddenly whisked away. 

Strange. 

He takes a deep breath. 

What can he do with his last day?

Say goodbye to his roommate, probably. Turn in the homework that’s due next week. Maybe he should call his ex… no, that would just make it all worse. 

It is at this moment that Iwaizumi Hajime comes to the startling realization: he is an insultingly average human being. 

Perhaps he should just wait. It would happen eventually. If he sat here with the doors locked, maybe the ceiling would collapse, or a car would run into the building or a number of other things that could take him out easily. That way, he wouldn’t hurt anyone else before he died, and nobody would feel guilty that they had been with him and hadn’t even noticed. 

But Iwaizumi Hajime is, unfortunately, an insultingly average, _selfish_ human being, and he cannot stomach the idea of dying alone. Instead, he sits up and stares at the shelf of fruit gummies across from him. 

What can he do?

He has no siblings to bid goodbye to, and his mother and father probably wouldn’t take well to hearing it. He has a couple of close acquaintances, but few friends. When Iwaizumi thinks about it, he doesn’t have much of anyone at all. 

Strange. 

Well, sitting around probably won’t do much of anything for him, so he gets back up and begins straightening the magazines. What can he do on his last day? Is there anything he’s always wanted? Maybe to try that new ramen shop down the road he’d wanted to get to, or take the clothes that had been sitting in his room to goodwill. 

It still doesn’t feel real, in a way. Maybe in an hour or two it will hit him and he’ll snap, but right now, he feels strangely calm. 

Death is a strange thing, after all. He always knew it would come to him quickly, racing towards him, but it was just out of reach - something he couldn’t see, couldn’t tell, couldn’t examine. Iwaizumi knew the facts, the figures, the statistics, so something as arbitrary as Deathcast didn’t bode well with him. 

When he was younger, he thought it to be a joke everyone was playing on him until his grandfather called one day. Iwaizumi had picked up the house phone, heavy in his hand, and listened as his grandfather said goodbye. He handed it to his mother, after, and her cries seeped into the walls of his room. He didn’t know how to comfort her. But after that, he believed it. 

He had been happier, then; without a mindset or expectation or any of the looming questions taking over his brain. 

A knock from the window makes him jump out of his skin. He flings himself behind the rack without a second thought, knocking a few papers askew, and covers his head with his hands. Another person being in the room increases his chance of mortality significantly, and he can’t handle that, not when his last day had just begun. 

A pause, and then another tentative knock. “Hello?” The voice is muffled by the door, but Iwaizumi can still hear. “I can see you, you know.” 

Iwaizumi considers shifting a bit more so he’s completely out of view, but that might make the person talking to him angry, and they could pull out a knife or kick through the glass, and then he’d be dead anyway. Even so, it takes all his courage to turn and look at the boy standing at the door. 

The boy at the door. 

He wears a faded hoodie and baggy jeans, and his hair looks unkempt and messy. Most disturbing are his eyes - a deep shade of brown that could be beautiful in the right circumstance, but right now are red-rimmed and watery. His face is blotchy, and his lower lip is trembling, and Iwaizumi feels his stomach drop. 

Almost in a daze, he gets up and unlocks the door, holding it open for the boy as he walks in on unsteady legs. 

“This place used to be open 24 hours. The hell?” He’s not sure if the boy is muttering to Iwaizumi or to himself, but feels obligated to give an explanation. 

“There was an emergency.” 

The boy snickers mirthlessly, selecting a package of milk bread before heading to the next aisle. “I’m sure.” 

Iwaizumi locks the door and follows him. The boy’s voice is steady, but there are still dried tear tracks running down his cheeks. “Are you… okay?” 

“Am I okay?” His voice immediately hardens, and Iwaizumi briefly thinks that asking may have been the wrong move. “I woke up at twelve in the morning to a fucking phone call telling me I was going to die today, and then I had to drive for an hour to say goodbye to my mother, and I just fucking left so I wouldn’t cry in front of her, and now I just wanted some goddamn food and the store was locked. So no--” the man squints at his nametag, “No, _Iwaizumi,_ I’m not okay.”

Iwaizumi stares at him for a beat, shocked into silence and hoping that this boy wasn’t about to pull a knife on him. The promise of death made people do crazy things; he had read stories of people bombing buildings or going on rampages after they had gotten the news. 

But the boy has the decency to drop his gaze. “I’m sorry.” Iwaizumi stays quiet. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to take all that out on you. I’m just so…” 

“Yeah,” He cuts in. “You seem to be taking the news a lot worse than me.” 

The boy looks up again, shocked, searching Iwaizumi’s eyes for some hint of untruthfulness. But Iwaizumi keeps his gaze open and calm, and he sees the other’s face mirror his. 

“Wait, you also-”

“Yep.” 

They stare off for a moment until the boy’s lips twitch into a smile before letting out the ugliest snort Iwaizumi has ever heard. 

And then the floodgates open and Iwaizumi is laughing for the second time in the break of morning, so hard he has to sink down to the ground, hanging onto a shelf for support. The other boy is laughing too, and every time Iwaizumi thinks he’s pulled himself together, the boy will snort between his giggles and set Iwaizumi off again. 

By the time he’s finished, Iwaizumi literally has to wipe tears from his eyes. His stomach hurts, and they’re both on the ground, breathless. 

“Holy shit,” the boy says. “Listen, two dead guys walk into a bar-”

“Stop talking, oh my god.” Iwaizumi kicks weakly at him, scared that if he laughs anymore he’ll actually die. This boy lying on the convenience store tile will kill him. 

“Sorry, but like, _both_ of us here? Not exactly a good idea, Iwaizumi.” 

“If your stupid ass hadn’t insisted on coming in…” Iwaizumi rubs his eyes. “Where are you going, anyway? Don’t you think it would be safer just to stay inside?” 

“Ah.” The mood sobers almost disturbingly quickly as the boy sits up, pushing his glasses higher on his face and wrapping his arms around his knees. “I was just going to walk around, I guess. Let nature do its thing.” 

“Are you crazy?” Iwaizumi asks incredulously. “Don’t you have shit you want to do before you die? Something you want to see? A goal?” 

The boy’s gaze is far away now. “What’s the point? I’m going to be dead by the end of it all whether I live out my dreams or not.” 

Iwaizumi sighs and sits up as well. “That’s a really morbid way of thinking about it. If you have the time, why not put it to good use?” 

“It’s like a cloud over my head,” the boy replies. “How am I supposed to enjoy myself if I know that my clock is ticking every time I take a step?” 

Iwaizumi says, “That’s always been the case, hasn’t it?” 

They lock eyes for a moment before the boy looks away, pouting slightly. “What were _you_ going to do then? If you have it all figured out? Why are you spending your last hours in a shitty convenience store instead of frolicking in the fields, or whatever?” 

“It is not _shitty,_ you-” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “What’s your name?” 

“Oikawa.” 

“You’re shitty. Shittykawa.” 

“Oh my- don’t _call me that."_

“Shittykawa,” Iwaizumi says again, feeling a smile creep up in spite of himself. 

“Don’t be vulgar, _Iwa-chan."_ The word is hissed from Oikawa’s mouth with a purpose. 

“Okay, ew. No nicknames.” 

“You started it!”

The two look at each other with matching grins for a moment. The knot in Iwaizumi’s chest loosens. 

Oikawa says, “You never answered my question. Why are you here still, if you’re dying today?” 

Iwaizumi sighs, resting his chin on his knees. “I got the alert pretty late.” 

“And…?” Oikawa prompts. 

“And… there’s nothing I want to do, really. I’ve lived a pretty unextraordinary life.” 

“Nothing?” 

“I just…” Iwaizumi chews his bottom lip for a moment, figuring out how to phrase it. “I guess I just figure what’s done is done. The mark I have now is what I’m going to be leaving, you know?” 

“But wouldn’t you be doing it for yourself? Not the world?”

“Maybe,” Iwaizumi says, and with everything Oikawa’s told him, he’s starting to feel a little bit afraid. “I don’t want to die with regrets, and if I’m thinking of everything I could have done, then I will.” 

“I think you’ll die with regrets either way,” Oikawa replies. “That’s just how it goes.” 

“Maybe.” Iwaizumi lets his legs stretch out, closing his eyes. “I guess we’re both cowards, then.”

Oikawa shuts up for a moment, and Iwaizumi has just gotten used to the silence when he pipes up again. “We don’t have to be.” 

Iwaizumi’s eyes pop open and he looks at Oikawa. “Huh?”

Oikawa is shifting, gaze darting around the store. “I just mean, like… you’re dying. I’m dying. And neither of us have anywhere to be.” 

“What do you mean?” Iwaizumi can feel a stupid bead of hope in his stomach that he tries to crush. Hope is a dangerous thing. 

“We could stick together. Do something, together. It’s better than dying alone, isn’t it?” 

Iwaizumi sighs. “You realize that two of us in any location increases our chance of dying. Like, significantly.” 

“We’re going to die anyway, aren’t we?” Oikawa says, and then rolls his eyes when Iwaizumi doesn’t respond. “Whatever. It was a stupid idea. If you want to be alone, I get-”

“Let’s do it,” Iwaizumi replies as Oikawa moves to stand up. 

“Huh?” 

“I said, okay.” Iwaizumi feels the excitement in him growing at an alarming rate at the idea that his final day may not have to be spent inside the four walls of a convenience store, feeling sorry for himself. “Let’s get out of here. Do something fun.” 

“Are you sure?” Oikawa looks uncertain, now. “If you’d rather just stay here, I get it. I can leave. Or if there’s someone else you want to see…” 

“There’s no one else I need to see,” Iwaizumi says, and he can feel a smile coming on. “Just agree to let me get through a few things.” 

“Of course. Whatever you want,” Oikawa replies. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I really don’t want to spend my last day alone.” 

“Don’t count your chickens,” Iwaizumi tells him. “If you get too annoying I’ll have no problem ditching you on the sidewalk or something.” 

“Don’t worry about that, Iwa-chan,” and shit, Oikawa’s smile is already too big for his face. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Iwaizumi stands up and Oikawa does the same. “So… we’re doing this?” 

“We’re doing this.” Oikawa begins to peruse the aisles once more. “Any stuff you want?” 

Iwaizumi goes to his bag, packing the essentials. His ID, his phone, his keys. “There’s stationary all the way in the back if you can grab that.” 

Oikawa gives him a strange look, but luckily doesn’t comment. “Anything else, your highness?” 

“I’ll let you know.” Iwaizumi checks his phone. A few notifications, none of which he’s going to open. Outside of Oikawa and the girl from earlier, no one knows yet that he’s dying. 

Oikawa comes bounding up like an overexcited puppy, practically vibrating in place. “Are you ready for the best last day ever, Iwa-chan?” 

“Don’t be dramatic. It’s my _only_ last day ever.” Oikawa rolls his eyes at that, but Iwaizumi follows him anyway until they’re standing by the door. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Oikawa asks, looking at him, and Iwaizumi feels pinned under his gaze, as though Oikawa will be able to see all his stupid secrets just by staring. “Once we leave, I’m not going to go back.” 

“I’m sure.”  
  


Oikawa’s smile is big and bright and if this is how Iwaizumi spends his last day, maybe it won’t be so bad. “Let’s go, then.” 

Iwaizumi unlocks the door and Oikawa pushes it open, stepping into a world of danger, a universe that’s out to get them, and the inky black sky of their final day. 


End file.
